Tuesday, August 09, 2005

part 2 conclusion to yesterday's drama

here is what happened.
I’m sorry if it’s a let down and it certainly is not as exciting as some of the suggestions you made [fluffy, why didn’t I think of that. I could have easily rigged that up “just in case”.]
actually you made me realise i really should just post a picture of the woman. i found it on the hocking-stuart site:








and in spite of the gigipic from yesterday, here is she and me







okay, so now you can imagine it better.
so we are standing there, she has said to me “you have a dog don’t you?”
and I say “no”
and she shows me the piece of paper, and everything slows right down, and it’s like the air has become clear jelly and my arm pushes through it to take the paper, and my skin starts to prickle
and I look at it, and I go:
“no.”
the second "no" went up a little at the end, like a question, as if I was puzzled that there it was in black and white, such an unthinkable thing, that someone would be accusing me of having a dog, when there is obviously such a lack of dog-presence on the premises.
it was so pathetically transparent.
what was written on the paper was a note from the last REW [ the one who left to have a baby and who told me she would pretend she never knew about the dog, the one who I want to rot in hell, and her bloddy baby too]
[did I just say that?]
on the paper was: “tenants ok. they have a dog now.”
all I could do was the bill clinton defence. deny. deny. deny. but at least he used full sentences and I’m sure his skin didn’t prickle and his armpits remained dry and his air did not turn to jelly.
you see because he has a long history of being a lying prick, whereas I am a nice person.
she didn’t say anything, muttered something but i couldn't hear it over the pounding waves in my head and the buzz of heat. it was a terrible moment.
she knew I was lying, I knew she knew I was lying. and she didn’t say anything.
the thing is, my mum and I had spoken about “what if she asks about the dog?” a couple of weeks earlier. we had decided what I should say if she somehow asked:
“oh the dog didn’t work out, so she’s up at my aunt’s place at woodend”
[ i have read that to lie well you mix the lie with some truth]
but I panicked, and completely freaked out.
so then we continued on with the inspection, and she was talking about HER dog, blah de blah, and I felt it was a trap to make me think “oh she has a dog, she loves her dog, she is dog sympathetic so perhaps I will confess, she’ll understand”
but I didn’t. how could i just turn it all around.
when she walked outside I was sure she was looking down, searching for dog hairs. her nose was twitching, trying to sniff the poo that she KNEW must be there somewhere. she looked at the scuffled dirty semi-diggings around the edge of the grass. she saw the pot plant with the hastily scooped-back-in dirt.
back in the house, she said she wanted to test the smoke detectors. I told her they should be fine, I’d just changed both batteries.
“I still need to test them” she said
“Fine I said”
“just get out of my house” I thought
“I need something long to press them” she said
“try my nose” I thought
"ok I'll get a broom" I said
I went to the laundry and got the broom. I started walking back with it, then saw the white dog hairs all over the bristles, lifting up into the air as i walked.
I returned to the laundry and changed the broom for a rake – thank god for that rake!!! Thank god I was too lazy to put it back into the garage and it’s been in my laundry for the last two weeks. that rake was a gift from god.
smoke detectors were fine.
in an effort to put her off the dog trail, I told her I’ve got a property in st kilda that I’m renting out, and I’m not happy with those agents, and I’m thinking of changing agents, do you manage properties down that way? etc etc. like: I’m a landlord too, I’m not just some scuzzy liar hiding my dog from you.
finally she went.
I sat there with head in hands, arm pits dripping.
then I drove to my friend’s place who was babysitting the gigi. we had a coffee. I debriefed, telling her perhaps I should call NREW and confess.
she advised me not to. to just leave it. then her sister and bro-in-law arrived. he is a minister. so I sought his guidance, though I be not a religious girl.
he said the sweetest words:
“don’t do anything”
so that was good
I slept well last night, no dreams as I expected.
and that’s the end of the story. for now.
I am waiting for some sort of spot raid, letter in the mail saying “I know you lied, move out” and it is just all a bit of a worry.
PS Aleks this DID happen. I am not making it up.

7 comments:

Cape Man said...

You should have turned her into a newt.

MelbourneGirl said...

no i'm dorothy. SHE'S the witch. SHE is.

Darcy said...

Eesh. There's no way inhell I'd get rid of my dog hairs. I try daily. They're EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!!

Salivating in anticipation of your food list.

MelbourneGirl said...

thanks darcy, list is on the way...
it's not a simple thing to just jot it all down. food is a SERIOUS topic which needs to be considered carefully and fully...

BEVIS said...

Real Estate Agents suck. Ministers, however, rock.

(I'm related to one too, so I won't hear a bad word said about them.)

They cop a lot of flack simply for being good people and standing up for what they believe in; which is generally being nice. But let's not get any further into that, as sometimes opinions are quite divided on this topic and it can get quite heated.

But this was a post about a cute little doggy and the nasty Real Estate Agent who tried to have her put down or drawn and quartered.

And I think I've rambled on enough.

I'm glad you 'did nothing', as suggested. I think that was the best advice.

Gregory Surlyboy said...

There's no turning back now. The golden rule of fib-telling is "Once you start, you have to stick with the story".

Well done.

MelbourneGirl said...

thanks everyone for making me feel better about lying

it's not easy but i am sleeping fine